


Embrace

by dwarrowdams



Series: Rogues Do It From Behind [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Confessions, Hugs, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwarrowdams/pseuds/dwarrowdams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran tells Gilan about his last mission and a woman named Rinna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> Oh God, I've been meaning to write this for ages and I hope I've done it justice. The moment when Zevran tells Gilan about Rinna is quite an important point in their relationship—one that I've played out in my head (and in the game) millions of times. I can only pray that I've pulled it off properly.
> 
> Also, I suppose it's important to mention that Gilan is demiromantic, meaning that he only feels romantic attraction to people after he's formed a strong emotional bond with them, which explains why he's so clueless and confused when such feelings do start cropping up.

Even the edge of the Brecilian Forest looked terribly intimidating to Gilan.

 

He had been in the woods before—both in his days in Highever and during his recent travels—but he knew that this forest was much larger and much more dangerous than any he had ever encountered.  Fortunately, several of the Dalish had been quite helpful in explaining its anomalies to the group, which made Gilan feel slightly better about the whole situation.  They had underscored the ever-shifting nature of the forest, so Tirzah, Wynne, and Alistair were in the process of trading for more food and health poultices, leaving him and Zevran alone to contemplate the situation that lay ahead of them—which wasn’t something that Gilan wanted to ponder for fairly obvious reasons.

 

He gently nudging Zevran’s foot with his own.  “Zev?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Now that everyone else is off getting supplies, why don’t you tell me some more about your adventures?”

 

Zevran glanced around furtively as if to insure that no one else was listening to their conversation.  “I wouldn’t have spoken about it before, he began, “but you have been a good friend.  There is no reason for me not to speak of it now.”

 

Gilan felt his heart drop slightly at the usage of the word “friend.”  True, he was pleased that Zevran considered him such, but he’d been hoping that the elf thought of him as more than that.  “Whenever you’re ready,” he said, his fingers brushing Zevran’s momentarily.  “I’m listening.”

 

Zevran sighed heavily.  “There is a reason I accepted this mission in Ferelden, far away from home, and it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows.  Meeting you, after all, was quite an accident,” he confessed before inhaling deeply.  “My last mission before this one…did not end well.”

 

Gilan frowned.  “It failed?” he asked.  “Or…something else?”

 

“Something else,” Zevran replied.  “The mission itself was quite successful.  I mean that it did not end well for me.”

 

Gilan took half a step towards the elf, pressing a kiss to his forehead.  He’d never seen Zevran like this—so serious, so distant.  What could have happened to make him withdraw in such a way?

 

As if responding to Gilan’s unspoken question, Zevran began to speak once more.  “You must realize that until that day, I was cocky and arrogant.  I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged of my conquests often…both as an assassin and a lover.”

 

Gilan sniffed in amusement.  “You were _more_ cocky and arrogant?” he teased, hoping that the joke would lighten the mood a bit.

 

Zevran chuckled.  “Indeed.  I was often told that I was insufferable…right before I ended up in bed with someone.  Such is how it was.”  He paused for a moment, directing his eyes downward as he continued.  “One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting.  My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise—a wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent.  Taliesin agreed to be part of my team as well as an elven lass named Rinna.  She was…a marvel.  Tough, smooth, wicked…eyes that gleamed like justice.  Everything I thought I desired.”

 

“And you fell in love,” Gilan murmured.  Zevran’s feelings for this woman were abundantly clear from the reverence with which he spoke her name and although a small part of him longed for Zevran to speak his name with such tenderness, his concern for Zevran overshadowed it.

 

“Rinna was…special,” Zevran replied.  “I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me.  It frightened me.  When Taliesin revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant and told him of our plan, I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and allowed Taliesin to kill her.”

 

He took a deep, slow breath.  “Rinna begged me not to.  On her knees with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed us.”  Cautiously, he lifted his head, his eyes sharp with sorrow.  “I laughed in her face and said that even if it were true, I didn’t care.”

 

Gilan took a step towards him, taking his hand.  “But that wasn’t true.”

 

Zevran exhaled shakily.  “I convinced myself that it was,” he replied.  “Taliesin cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me.  I spat on her for betraying the Crows.  When Taliesin and I finally assassinated the merchant, we found the source of his information.  Rinna had not betrayed us after all.”

 

“Zev,” Gilan whispered, his throat tight, “I’m sorry.”  He leaned down slightly to kiss Zevran’s cheek, gently tracing his fingers over the elf’s tattoo.

 

“I…wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake,” Zevran said, his fingers brushing absently against Gilan’s leg.  “Taliesin convinced me not to.  He said it would be a foolish waste.  So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt.  But we needn’t have bothered—the Crows knew what we had done.  The master who disliked me told me so to my face.  He said that the Crows knew…and they didn’t care.  And one day my turn would come.”

 

Gilan frowned slightly.  “Why would he do that?” he asked.  He knew that the Crows were not exactly a warm and loving family, but he couldn’t imagine in a world in which life was treated so callously.

 

“To rub it in my face, perhaps.  That I was nothing.  That she was nothing,” Zevran replied before pausing for a few moments.  “You once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows,” he continued.  “In truth, what I wanted was to die.  What better way than to throw myself at some of the fabled Grey Wardens?”

 

He looked up at Gilan, brushing a strand of hair away from his face with surprising tenderness.  “And then…this happened,” he said.  “And here I am.”

 

Gilan placed a hand under Zevran’s chin, gently tilting his head up before kissing his way along the elf’s jaw.  “Zevran,” he said, “that’s awful.  I’m so sorry.”

 

Zevran exhaled shakily, his eyes locked on Gilan’s.  “It…feels good to speak of it to someone.  I swore I never would,” he admitted.  “Whatever it is I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I have found it.  I owe you a great deal.”

 

Gilan looked down at him, lost for words as he gazed into the depths of the elf’s amber eyes.  “Zev, I….I’m glad to have you with me.”

 

He could no longer ignore his feelings for Zevran.  Somehow, in the midst of their flirtation, conversation, and remarkably good sex, Gilan had fallen in love with the Antivan elf.  Right now as he gazed down at him, Gilan wanted nothing more than to take Zevran in his arms and kiss him full on the mouth.

 

But he couldn’t do that.  He’d told Zevran weeks ago how uncomfortable kissing made him—when he wasn’t in love, at least.  If he tried to kiss Zevran now, he’d know that something had changed.  And if he knew how Gilan felt about him, it might be the end of their relationship.  After all, both of them had made it clear from the beginning that they weren’t interested in a serious commitment.

 

No.  If he wanted to say something, he’d have to wait to see if Zevran wanted something more.  After all, Gilan couldn’t stand to lose anyone else.

 

“It seems we should rejoin the others,” Zevran said, breaking the silence.  “Suddenly I do not feel like standing about.”

 

“Hang on a sec,” Gilan said, glancing around the camp for their companions.  “They’re not done yet so…c’mere.”

 

He wrapped Zevran in his arms, resting a hand on the small of Zevran’s back.  The two of them had never embraced properly—not without it quickly turning into something else—and Gilan was struck by how nice it felt to hold Zevran’s slender form against his slightly larger one.

 

“Zevran,” Gilan murmured, “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

 

“It is in the past, Gilan.”

 

“I know.  But it still hurts, huh?”

 

Zevran didn’t reply; he simply rested his head on Gilan’s shoulder, exhaling deeply.  Gilan savored the gentle rhythm of Zevran’s breath, his hand gently massaging Zevran’s back.

 

“Thank you,” Zevran said.

 

“For what?”

 

“For being so good to me.”

 

“Of course,” Gilan replied, his lips brushing the tip of Zevran’s ear.  He bit his lip, forcing himself not to say anything that revealed too much of his feelings.  “I’m glad to,” he murmured at last.

 

“You are quite the altruist, my dear.”

 

Gilan chuckled.  “You think so, huh?” he teased gently.  “Believe me, my being nice to you isn’t just altruistic.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I love seeing you smile.  That’s why.”

 

“You are sure that you are not so kind because of…other rewards?”

 

Gilan smiled.  “Those are pretty damn incredible too,” he said.  “But Zev…just seeing you smile is more than enough.”

 

Zevran lifted his head up off of Gilan’s chest, tracing a thumb over his jaw.  “I would like it if the world had more men like you, I think,” he replied, his lips upturned slightly.

 

Gilan felt himself flush as he wracked his brain for a clever reply, but the sound of Tirzah’s voice interrupted his train of thought.

 

“Gil!” she called from the edge of the forest.  “Let’s get going!”

 

“Looks like we’d better move,” Gilan said, slowly pulling away from Zevran, fingers still brushing the elf’s hips.

 

“Mmm,” Zevran murmured, his arm still wrapped around Gilan’s back.  “I suppose we must.”

 

Gilan took Zevran’s hand, lacing his fingers with the elf’s.  “Come on, Zev,” he said as he turned towards the Brecilian Forest.  “We’ve got a lot of walking to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> For two people who don't admit that they're in love until almost endgame, they're so in love. These two will be the end of me.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!


End file.
